


Duty

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Good King Uther, Royal Marriage, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-08-23 14:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16620557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Gwen can’t get Uther’s offer out of her head. She’s built her life here, in Camelot. As a daughter learning her father’s trade, as a servant cleaning a princess’s chambers. As a wife, easing a king’s burden. She has always been bound to here life her. She’s worn the chains of her station her whole life, and made peace with it.





	Duty

Gwen rolls her hips above Arthur, takes her pleasure despite his disinterest. It’s a trick she learned early in this marriage, how to find her own release off a husband who does not see  _ her  _ . She’d stop, settle for her own fingers, if the want of an heir did not sit so heavy on his shoulders, in her heart.

She knows though, when she slides off of him, goes and cleans herself of their combined mess, that the desire will remain unfulfilled this time. No amount of concoctions from Gaius, no amount of blessings from the druids, no amount of prayers to God will fill her belly.

She returns to the bed she shares and tries not to bitterness curdle her heart when she finds Arthur curled on his side and snoring softly. She joins him, faces the window staring out over the moonlight garden. She doesn’t weep, hasn’t for many years now. But the sun is peeking a bruised red over the roses by the time she finally drifts to sleep.

\--

Uther welcomes them to the table. His eyes are soft as they regard her. She smiles at him, trying for something other than exhaustion. The way his lips drop tell her she has not succeeded.

“Gwen. Have you made contact with the druids from the North?”

“No, Uther. They seem to be wary, even after all this time. Their camp remains shrouded in a fog that leaves the knights… euphoric and distracted. It seems to move every few weeks as well.”

Uther nods and then looks at his son. “No luck from your servant, either?”

Arthur merely grunts at his father and continues to pick at the boar on his plate. Gwen shares a frown with the former king, but neither of them are in the mood to entertain Arthur’s disposition. He’s always out of sorts when Merlin leaves, anxious, and a little jealous of the time Merlin spends among his people.

\-- 

“Gwen, darling. I can set you free.”  Uther’s voice wafts over the crack of the fire, distracting her from the reports of grain shortages and the rot affecting their winter stores.

“Free?”

Uther lifts himself from his chair, an audible cracking down his spine, and hobbles towards her. “Please, do not misunderstand, my dear. I know I was… wary, about the initial match. You and Arthur.”

Gwen scoffs. “Wary? Seems a bit polite, the way to phrase your disdain for our relationship.”

Uther offers her a smile that looks more like a grimace. “It was never about you, my dear.”

Gwen shoves the reports away from her. “Then what was it about?”

Uther drums his fingers against the table, weighs his words between his cheeks before he answers. “I have always know Arthur’s interest to lie elsewhere. But he also feels incredibly duty bound. I cannot say I am innocent in his more, hm,  _ traditional  _  views. Or that I am blameless in his needs for appearance.”

Gwen smiles. “You expected much of him. You wanted him to live up to his potential.”

“Yes. But I am afraid I was cruel and demanding in my attempts. Ygraine was always the one to smooth my edges, the balm to my expectations. I am afraid, that without her, I did not know how to temper my expectations.”  Uther goes quiet for a moment. A long moment, one in which Gwen contemplates the oddity that is her life. Never had she imagined a world in which she’d prefer to spend her evenings with the former king, avoiding the bed of her distant husband.

“I am afraid I never taught Arthur that while traditions are important, and even have their place, they can be broken and amended. And I never offered him a chance to express himself to me, for his fear I would not except his more divergent taste. I thought I had taught him well enough to listen to his heart, but he let his servant go and married you.”

Gwen startles, her brown eyes locking in on the king. “So you knew then, where his heart truly lay.”

Uther can’t muster up a smile for her this time. His blue eyes, dim with age, seem particularly dark in the glow of the fire. “I never truly believed he’d marry for duty. If ever I expected him to defy me, I had assumed he would do so for the sake of his heart.”

He reaches out, grasp her hand in his own cold one. “I do apologize if I was cruel towards you, but I did not know how to protect you both. When you agreed to wed him, I had hope. Hope that maybe the affection between you would grow, bloom into more.”

Gwen’s lip begins to wobble and she’s embarrassed at the burn of tears in her eyes.

“I can release you.”

“Oh Uther. What would I do with freedom anyway?”

\--

Gwen can’t get Uther’s offer out of her head. She’s built her life here, in Camelot. As a daughter learning her father’s trade, as a servant cleaning a princess’s chambers. As a wife, easing a king’s burden. She has always been bound to her life here. She’s worn the chains of her station her whole life, and made peace with it.

And yet, the idea of release, of no expectations; it drifts in and out of her mind over the next few days.

She’s lying next to him, both of them in their own thoughts, when the question slips out. “Why me?”

Arthur doesn’t respond immediately, and she’s about ready to let it go when he asks “Why you what?”

“Why did you marry me?”

Arthur huffs beside her. “Really, Guinevere?”

Gwen sneers at him and turns on her side. She blows out her candle and pulls the covers up to her chin.

“Because, you were kind, and sweet. You loved me, and I thought I could love you.” His answer comes out in a rushed muffle.

It is nothing she didn’t already know, but it still makes her chest ache and her lungs burn.

She almost misses it when Arthur asks, “Why did you marry me?”

Gwen shuts her eyes. Shame whispers through her bones. “Because Lancelot left, and you stayed. You asked.”

 


End file.
